


one shot (to your soul)

by tysunkete (aozu)



Series: log(minus 1) anthology [5]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Secret Crush, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 04:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12903933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/tysunkete
Summary: Volleyball AU.“Focus,” the captain says with a bit of a smirk. “Win, and then you can ogle Yuu as much as you want later.”





	one shot (to your soul)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written: 03/02/2015.

****It’s coming up to three years, but even the roar of triumphant and excitement of their team scoring isn’t enough for Lavi to tear his gaze away from the dark-haired young adult smirking just barely perceptibly in satisfaction as the other wrists bumps their captain for that victory. It doesn’t even make sense, sometimes, because the person he’s inevitably drawn to isn’t the one who made that spike, but he’s the _setter_. Yuu Kanda, half-Japanese with a decent height for volleyball, is what people call a ‘genius setter’—the name had been floating around the courts since middle school, Lavi hears, though Lavi only joined to play when he was in high school.

From the spectator point of view, their captain, Alma Karma, is the one who steals the spotlight—the captain is _good_ , one of the best well-rounded players ever, with solid receives and an incredible penchant to spike pass the blockers—but Yuu Kanda is the one who’s able to set up their attacks from any angle, at any speed, with deadly accuracy. There’s that incredibly fast toss that’s a signature of the setter, sometimes it’s so fast that no one really notices that he’s even _setting_ the ball, just when one of their wing spiker slams their hand forward in blind faith, the palm always connects. It’s eerie, but it’s incredible, and Lavi always feels a chill down his spine after.

A prod at the back of his shoulder makes him startle and blink, turning around to see Alma giving him a pointed look with raised eyebrows.

“Focus,” the captain says with a bit of a smirk. “Win, and then you can ogle Yuu as much as you want later.”

Lavi bites his tongue before he can retort something stupid, and stalks a few steps away as the team rotate positions. Alma has never said explicitly outright but he knows that the captain _knows_ , and he’s half afraid that the other would tell the setter about his unhealthy staring (he’s curious, okay, he’s just impressed, it’s _nothing_ ) because Alma and Kanda have been tight since forever—he’s seen them on the court together at the matches since high school, and he’s sure they’ve been playing together since young too, because their movements are always in sync. It still catches him off guard sometimes, when Kanda suddenly tosses right to the end of the court and Alma is waiting in mid-air for it.

They’re at 23-21, them in the lead, and its Kanda’s serve. Lavi glances looks past the net at their opponents and spies the look of dread on their faces—he almost laughs, but then he remembers his first match in high school and being on the other end of the court when Kanda served. It was a miracle he didn’t wet his pants, to be perfectly honest.

The setter takes a slow breath when the whistle blows, and then there’s that sharpened concentration in the other’s eyes, dark and confident, before the ball goes up into the air. One, two, and the setter pitches forward, jumping up in perfect form before making a swift connect with the ball. The sound of the ball hitting the ground vibrates across the whole court faster than anyone can blink—service ace.

24-21.

One more, and they’d win the first set. Kanda grips the next ball in his hands tightly, eyes closed when the next whistle blows. Even from the distance, Lavi can see the eyelashes on those structured beautiful features, the scowl that relaxes marginally before the ball is up in the air again. It’s just like three years ago he was across the net from where Kanda is, barely breathing when he watched the same movements—the elegant jump, the way the setter’s long hair trailed behind him, the confident smack to the ball—its slam to the ground where no one manages to move fast enough to receive it, and then the glow of pride that shines through the setter’s eyes before annoyance flashes over as the rest of the team screams in joy, slapping the setter on the back for a job well done.

25-21.

Lavi has never seen anyone serve so flawlessly, so _beautifully_ , he’s still staring in awe until their libero, a junior by the name of Allen Walker, comes over to pull his sleeve.

“Change of court,” Allen says, concerned. “You okay? You look a little out of it.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Lavi swallows, shaking his head. “Just nervous I guess.”

It’s their first match of the season, so it’s understandable. Last year when he and most of the team were first years in college, they didn’t manage to get far into the competition due to their lack of synergy. But this year is different—they’ve been practising for at least a year together with the exception of Allen, and they’ve worked out attack and defense strategies that move like clockwork. This year, Lavi is sure they’ll get to the nationals at the very _least_.

“They are tougher than I assumed,” Allen agrees, glancing over to the other team. “But we won the first set. It’ll just be easier from here on.”

“I don’t know if its confidence or if you’re just cocky,” Lavi says good naturedly, ruffling the other’s hair.

Allen smacks his hand away and points to Howard Link as they join a pseudo team circle around the middle blocker, who’s looking at them flatly. The blonde isn’t particularly tall—he’s average in the group of theirs, Lavi is the tallest, and he’s not exactly outstanding like the likes of Kanda and Alma or the freakishly fast with the reflexes of Allen, nor like a powerhouse like Noise Marie, their only 3rd year player and ex-captain. But Link stays on the court _because_ he doesn’t stand out; no one pays attention to the middle blocker while the other is silently reading the movements in the game, picking apart the other team’s weakness. The longer they are on court, ironically, the surer that they’d win, thanks to Link’s dissection.

“They’re starting to target you, captain,” Link begins.

“Sweet,” Alma nods, grinning. “I’d reckon Yuu and I can do a few more before we switch things up.”

“Number 10 doesn’t seem confident with receives, but number 2 is pretty good, so avoid him. They prefer backcourt play, so I wouldn’t suggest a spike from the back, unless we have to send the ball over. As for the final point,” he states, looking at Lavi in particular. “Let’s do _that_.”

Lavi brightens up at the prospect, bouncing slightly on his heels, glancing at Kanda. “Why not earlier?”

“It’s the only the first match,” Link replies. “We don’t want to reveal too much. Coach, anything that I’ve missed?”

They turn to their coach sitting on the bench, a middle aged man by the name of Tiedoll, smiles. “Watch out for their feints. I noticed they tend to attempt one right after Yuu’s serve.”

“Yes sir,” they chorus, and Alma huddles them into a circle again.

The easy going smile on the captain’s lips fades into something more serious as he eyes each and every one in turn, with a final nod to Marie.

“I believe in all of you,” he says slowly, before stepping back.

“Well,” he shrugs after with a teasing tone, “If we lose, we’re going to have _western_ , and it’ll be on Yuu.”

“Fuck off,” Kanda growls, storming past all off them to get onto the court first.

The second set starts off with not too much trouble—it’s like Allen says, the longer they are on the court, the easier it gets. In less than half the time they’re already up to 20-13, and their opponents are getting desperate, as seen by their attempts to dive for Kanda’s serves. Their hard work pays off though; their libero manages to catch the ball at an awkward angle, sending the ball into the air, but it becomes a chance ball on their side. Marie receives it perfectly, sending it over to Kanda, and Lavi grins as he and Alma both run up to the net and jump in unison.

Two blockers rush towards Alma and another two rush towards him—because they’ve been switching the spikers it’s a guessing game now, and Lavi sincerely hopes it’s him as he smacks his hand forward, and there’s the loud slam of the ball on the ground. He blinks when he lands, because his hand didn’t connect with anything. Link lands behind Kanda with a satisfied glint in his eyes. It’s easy to forget that Link is a decent spiker in his own right because everyone barely pays attention to him on court, something that they like to take advantage of.

21-13.

Lavi understands that and he is a bit proud for that point, but he _wants_ to spike.

“Yuu,” he whines to the setter, who scoffs and ignores him. “Come on, toss me.”

“No.”

“We don’t have to do _that_ , just a straight spike.”

“No.”

“Why?” he pouts. “Yuu, come on, Yuu—“

But Kanda turns away from him and he huffs at the other’s back before walking over to his next position on court.

Alma leans towards Kanda as Lavi prepares to serve, grinning a bit. “You can indulge him once in a while, you know?”

“Shut up.”

“Rather, you can indulge yourself—“

“I said _shut up_ , idiot,” Kanda snaps, and the ball sails over the net at that moment.

The next three points are harder to get, with their opponents more determined to keep the ball in the air, but their countless weeks of practice and more practice pays off with how seamlessly they feed into one formation and another, tightening their defense or strengthening their offense, and even Kanda has to hold in his flinch when Marie spikes past three blockers with power than none of them can ever match.

24-16.

Breakpoint.

Kanda wipes the seat off his neck as he prepares for the final game. It’s Link’s serve and soon the ball is up rallying in the air, the opposite team desperately trying not to let him have the ball at a decent angle to set. Allen dives to catch the ball at the edge of the line and Alma quickly covers, Marie hits it over. An awareness passes over their team as Kanda moves to the centre and Lavi moves to the right—their eyes meet for a split second with silent understanding, and once Alma receives the ball cleanly on their side, Kanda is waiting for it.

He’s been playing volleyball ever since he can remember—his foster father is their coach, he’s been playing it with Alma since they could walk, and he can see the ball come towards him in slow motion, his hands out and ready. He meets gaze with Link who goes up to the left, prepared to jump, but once the ball makes contact with his fingers, he tosses it backward without a look, leaving the blockers heading for Link tripping over their feet the moment they realise that the ball is going in the opposite direction.

They’ve practised this enough times for Kanda to imagine the whole scene clearly in his head. He pitches it fast and _high_ , higher than he would ever do for anyone, but that’s the point. Lavi is tall and that’s why he’s usually the blocker, but the other has some _massive_ leg power—Kanda hasn’t seen anyone reach the height that the other has, _ever_ , not since three years ago with the redhead on the opposite side of the net. A loud slam right at the edge of the court indicates that they’ve won the last point, faster than Kanda can turn around or even for anyone to react.

It’s scary, Kanda knows, their combination—the insanely fast backward toss and sudden death from that height, the worst is that from where Lavi is in the air, the other sees _everything_ on the other side of the court.

And there’s no stopping a spiker who can.

25-16.

The redhead lands on his feet with an excited whoop, eye sparkling and grinning widely. Kanda barely gets to move when the other launches towards him in a hug, shaking him by the shoulders repeatedly.

“Yuu, that was—that was _amazing_ , fuck, you are amazing,” Lavi grins breathlessly. _“You are amazing.”_

The bodies from their other team mates crowd around them and the redhead is still whooping in excitement, high fiving the rest and laughing with joy. Kanda watches Lavi without really meaning to, but he always does after the redhead spikes—it’s just, it’s just even after one year Lavi still gets so incredibly happy whenever he spikes, it’s childish, it’s _stupid_ , the way his breath shortens when Lavi smiles at him all wide eye and sincere-like in the aftermath.

A hand on his shoulder jerks him out of the staring, and he turns his head, except, a finger pokes into his cheek at the movement.

Alma is smirking at him knowingly, and Kanda immediately scowls.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything—“

“Shut the fuck up,” Kanda repeats.

Alma sighs, and pats the setter on the shoulder. “Fine. Come on, let’s line up.”

But of course the captain can’t resist leaning closer to the other’s ear whispering teasingly, “ _You are amazing_ ,” before choking down his laugh as he makes a run for it.


End file.
